Amalgamation
by Knight of Angby Maybe
Summary: He's calm and soft, she's loud and fierce, and they find each other's gaze in the middle of the world's biggest mess and don't let go until their paths go separate ways.
1. Together

**Enjoy your reading!**

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**Together.**

He's calm and soft, she's loud and fierce, and they find each other's gaze in the middle of the world's biggest mess and don't let go until their paths go separate ways. Take care of their battle wounds, brace themselves for the next time the earth shifts and something else goes out to end them.

(It's always them.)

Their stare weights on their respective hearts until they meet again.

This time it lasts longer.

She's over 30 and he's barely 20, yet both have already seen more of life and death than they wanted or even deserved to. Yet both have already lifted more than they ever thought they could take.

At first, she thinks he's sort of stupid- _idealistic, yes_, but unrealistic nonetheless, outright idiotic; what-_ did he think that chatting to the monsters would make them go back crawling to freaking Hell? _And he thinks she's kind of _rumbustious_\- sure, her methods work, but- she's mostly ruthless.

(_Did he think she wanted to be who she was? _

_And what, did she also think he chose this?_

So maybe they were chosen, but they also chose, and that made every difference.)

He was enraptured by her, with her long blond hair and sharp movements and her wild personality and her strength -so much of it- that hit too close to the heart. And he thought she was some kind of force of the nature, like a hurricane or a thunderstorm; deadly and beautiful and unstoppable. Yet she'd touch his shoulders with small and nearly weightless hands, neatly manicured, and then give him the tiniest lipsticked-smile that would fill his mind and his veins with reassurances and faith.

On himself, on her, on them.

And she admits to having underestimated him, what with his youth and humble attitude, never afraid of asking for help or showing weakness-

He was far too gentle and kind -so kind it hit too close to the heart: how he instantly considerate those around him- and he was caring, _soothing_ even; yet there was such power within his gaze- and on his grip, and on his low and calm voice. There was this piercing current underneath his actions, like he held the earth's fucking core inside his chest. And it made her believe, it made her trust.

On him, on herself, on them.

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**a.n.:** idek, man! I just love them as these buddies who bicker a lot and disagree a lot but not-so-secretly admire each other fighting off the supernatural together. There'll probably be more on the way, or not. But most probably yes. [winks] Oh, and please remember English isn't my native language, so I'd be glad to know about any mistakes I might have made! Thank you for reading it anyway!


	2. Still Buffy

**Not even I believed I could come up with something else about them, but I did; they keep coming back!**  
**Enjoy your reading.**

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**Still Buffy.**

Unsurprisingly, they found themselves lying side by side on an old motel twin bed, waiting for the world to bent at their will _again_, or so she had joked a few minutes before.

Their worn out, overused bones felt scratchy and fucking fidgety, restless, their nerves on fire and their veins itchy, their blood running frantic with anxiety, their eyes red-shot for being awake for too long, watching the ceiling above them with-

_With an intensity that should be their trademark, she had thought._

It still shocked her, even after all those years. That she couldn't detach herself from- _the world, really_. That she could _still_ look through their hell-bent-tinted glasses and want to be a protector. Although it seemed natural to _him_, all bundled nerves, with shoulders that appeared to be _made_ to hold the weight of the world; it still surprised her that she could find that strength, that ferocity in _her_ marrow, in _her_ own core.

_(She always thinks it's going to run out._

_She always expects to feel dull all over. After everything. _

_It never does._

_Instead, she feels too much.)_

Taking an intake of breath, unable to stand the heavy silence that was stretching around their room, that felt like a hot mass of air, that was suffocating her in ways that a hand around her throat couldn't-

She breathed out.

"FYI, my head's aching like a bitch from all that strategy talking", she ended up saying, unable to keep her mouth shut- _still_ unable to be quiet, still needing to pull all of _that_ out.

And saw his crooked jaw relaxing somehow before he answered.

"And you were once part of a freaking _squad_! Dude, my entire experience with strategy came from the times I saw Stiles playing RPG", and then he chuckled in that easy way of his, like he could hide the fact that talking about his life outside their world-saving mission hurt like fuck.

"Well, my brain disagrees", he sighed and bumped her forearm with his elbow, in his wolf way of acknowledging the compliment and giving support yet without a single word spoken. It worked, and she felt lighter.

They shared a smile, his understandment clear on his dimples and unfurrowed brows.

That nobody can get _used_ to this life they lead. That their issues will always be _stills_ and _yets_ and _after all this times_. And that there's just no running away from it.

_That sometimes she just needs to throw up stupid remarks so as to empty herself, so as to not feel trapped inside- plans, and apocalypses, and monsters, and survival, and being Buffy._

And that there's just dealing. Waiting for it to pass. Waiting for it to come.

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**a.n.: **Yeah, it was gloomy and kinda dark, but that's their future to me ): I'm thinking on Scott's pov next chapter, but I can't promise there will be a next chapter, only that I've thought about it and [sighs]. Hope you enjoyed it? It was one of those times when writing lead straight to posting and I'm not sure how to feel about it. Tell me! :)


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